


Starzfucker

by Evaine



Category: Metallica
Genre: Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-16
Updated: 2010-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaine/pseuds/Evaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't want to be there. He just fucking didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starzfucker

**Author's Note:**

> This is another take on the events of [ Hero Worship](http://archiveofourown.org/works/234971) (Green Day fandom). You don't need to have read the one to understand the other, but it does make the experience more rounded. *grin*

I hate these fucking parties. Why the fuck do I let him talk me into these things? Why couldn’t he have dragged Kirk along with him—he always drags Kirk along with him. Even fucking Jason is better at this shit than I am. So why the fuck did it have to be me? _Because we’re starting a new album soon and the Mighty Fucking Hetfield needs to show his fucking face once in a while._ His voice is clear as a bell in my head, repeating the same thing he told me fifteen times this afternoon. _It’s for the band, man._ He looked at me with those fucking eyes, making perfect business sense and I gave in.

So now I’m sitting here, listening to some idiot of a suit babble on about shit only Lars is interested in, and watching him work the room. And trust me, Lars can fucking work the room like nobody I’ve ever seen. Thank fuck I have my beer.

“Yeah, Lars and I have been working up some songs, getting ready to start recording.” I have to say something to this guy next to me. It’s what I’m here for.

I’m certainly not here because I want to watch Lars circle the room, smiling at anything in pants, fluttering his fucking eyes at anything in a low-cut dress. Why the fuck do I watch? It only annoys the piss out of me.

I take a long pull on my beer and try to focus on what Joe-suit is trying to tell me. It’s a fucking chore.

Lars is talking to the Gunners now. Gripping hands with Slash, exchanging grins with McKagan. I can feel my lips begin to pull back in a snarl and quickly take another pull on my beer. Duff’s okay. I actually like the guy—until he gets within two feet of my drummer. Something in the way they look at each other, the easiness they have between them, the way they lean into each other. Bugs my ass.

Lars turns and gives me a look. He knows I don’t want to be here. He’s fucking checking on me. Making sure I’m holding up my end of the deal. There are times I want to strangle the little fucker. I raise one of my eyebrows, returning his look, then turn my attention to the pretty blonde with the tight top and generous tits who’s settled next to me. A guy’s gotta amuse himself somehow.

Another beer later, I spot Lars again. He’s making nice with that kid, Billie Joe something-or-other from Green Day. I can tell by the way he’s lounging against the wall that Lars is turning on the charm. Figures. The kid’s almost a dead ringer for him. I snicker quietly as I suck on my beer. Appears that Lars is going to try and do what I told him to do this afternoon—to go and fuck himself.

I watch as Lars guides the kid around the room, introducing him to people, schmoozing with the suits, putting his hand on the kid’s back. Yeah, he wants him. I know the signs. And Billie Joe Whatisname is falling for it.

I drain my beer.

They’ve disappeared behind a bookcase now; I can make out the top half of their heads through the shelving as I look past the bare shoulder of the blonde who has her hand on my knee. Lars turns as the kid’s head sinks down below my field of vision and he’s looking at me. Right fucking at me. I raise my beer bottle to my lips and take a long swallow as the blonde’s hand moves a little higher. Lars’ eyes narrow and I know the kid’s got his mouth on him.

My jeans are suddenly a little tighter.

He holds my gaze and I can’t look away. He’s challenging me. He knows that I know exactly what’s going on behind that bookcase and he _wants_ me to know. It doesn’t bother me—why should it? Annoys the shit out of me, but it doesn’t bother me. Goddamned show-off. Drags me to this fucking party and then fucks off with some green-behind-the-ears kid. Getting his dick sucked. And fucking staring at me.

I need another beer.

The chick’s hand is so high on my thigh now that her next move is gonna be to grab my nuts and still those green eyes are looking at me. And I can’t look away. I see him jump slightly and wonder if Billie Joe—fuck, those initials—added a little too much teeth for comfort. I bite back the snicker just as the blonde’s hand squeezes my leg. Determined little bitch.

Lars turns away and his eyes are closed, his chin raised—fuck, my jeans are tight. I cover the chick’s hand with my own before it wanders any further. Had she told me her name? I don’t remember and, frankly, I don’t much care.

He’s almost there now. I can see it in the set of his head as it rests against the wall, the tilt of his chin. The girl twines her fingers in mine. I can tell the instant he starts to come, see his mouth move even though I can’t hear the words. He can’t come silently to save his fucking soul. Never could. The chick’s leaning against me now, her tits rubbing my arm, her red mouth lifted in a mute invitation.

Jesus, I need another beer.

He’s sauntering out from behind the bookcase, the fucking cat that ate the canary. His cheeks have that slight flush to them and his pouting lips are full as he smiles at someone. He’s got that just fucked look and I wonder if anyone else besides me notices. Cocky bastard. The blonde shifts about and ends up almost in my fucking lap, the heavy scent of her flowery perfume almost overpowering me. Jesus, do I need this?

McKagan… should have fucking known. He slings his arm loosely about Lars’ shoulders and Lars grins up at him. Fuckin’ Mutt and Jeff, but fuck, they look comfortable together. Moments later, they’ve disappeared into the milling throng of people and I can feel the snarl twisting my lips. I’ve got an armful of eager tits and hair, an empty hand where a beer should be and a hard-on that’s edging into uncomfortable. The kid emerges from behind the bookcase in that moment, looking stunned and pissed off. He pauses to lean on the bookcase and light a cigarette. It’s almost spooky how much he looks like Lars.

“Fuckin’ need a beer.” I dump the chick unceremoniously to the side. She protests, red lips pouting, her tits bouncing and I stride off without a word or a look back.

Who needs it? Who fucking needs this shit?  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Ang, for your quick and wonderful beta - I can't do it without you, gal! And Joolz, as ever, your support and encouragment are priceless. And to James Muse who was so nicely waiting for me when I got back to the coffee shop at work after vacation.


End file.
